Edge
by Dichotomy
Summary: RayK is at an edge. Sort of slashish if you are quesy about that sort of thing.


Author: Dichotomy 

Title: Edge 

E-mail: dichotomy@dichotomy.slashcity.net 

Rating: R for dark themes 

Summary: RayK is at an edge. 

Disclaimer: You know, there are times I'm amazed that I still have muses, let alone own any of them. They belong to their rightful owners, please don't sue unless you have a deep, dark yen for pop cans and beer bottles. 

Author's Notes: My first completed, all dS piece. Not beta'd, but has been spell and grammar checked more than two times. Oh, and none of my fic will have the "Big D" in it unless it is labled as having a character death. Slash-ish/pre-slash. 

*** 

Ray took one last swig of his drink and steeled himself. He was gonna do it. End it all like he should've done years ago. Before he fucked his life up totally and had to move across town to a new precinct. That's why he was gonna do it, the Chicago PD is a pretty small place and rumors travel fast. One wrong move about what you did on your off time and the rest of the police department was on your ass before you knew it. That was what happened to him. What was hopefully going to be a no-strings attached blow job in the park had turned into months of living hell for him. He was gonna do it. 

He had the right number of pills set up at home to bring him safely to the other side of consciousness. All he had to do was go home, take them, chase them down with bottle of vodka and close his eyes. He would just be another statistic. Another cop dead by his own hand. It happened all the time, the job got to be too much so the cop offed himself. Nothing unusual, nothing strange. Just another cop dead from suicide. 

His new assignment had come in this morning. He was supposed to be going undercover for a cop named Ray Vecchio. Italian and he didn't look a thing like him. It was better this way. They could find a cop who was actually Italian and resembled Vecchio if he offed himself. Vecchio would stand a better chance at staying alive if he had a replacement that looked like him. It was better this way. Ray set his empty tumbler down on the bartop and unsteadily took out his wallet. He left far more than his drinks had cost. One last tip, it wasn't like he was going to have any use for money after tonight. Better to let someone who could use it have it. 

He turned for the door and started weaving towards it. A flash of red caught his eye, he turned. And saw Vecchio's partner. Their eyes locked for a second and Ray felt himself drown in the loneliness they contained. With a quick shake of his head, Ray broke eye contact and walked the rest of the distance to the door. 

Ray walked into his apartment, carefully not locking the door behind him, and sat down on the couch. The pills and vodka were sitting on the coffee table in front of him. He took one last glance around his apartment before picking up the dixie cup full of pills and bringing them up to his lips and started to tip the cup back. Only a few more minutes and his life would be blessedly over. He stopped. He was in the middle of killing himself and he fucking stopped. His mind went back to meeting Vecchio's partner's eyes, what was his name, Benton Fraser? Whatever his name was, the loneliness was bone deep. Like somehow Benton-whatshisface knew that Vecchio was leaving him and knew that he couldn't do a damn thing about it. He understood loneliness all too well. How it preyed on your mind, making you feel like less than a person. He understood loneliness. Whoever they got to replace him for Vecchio's replacement probably would not understand loneliness. He couldn't condemn a man he hardly knew to that existence. Even a man he knew well to that existence. 

Ray set the cup back down on the table and put his head in his hands. Damn his conscience. Very well, he would live until the end of this assignment. Then he would kill himself. 

He levered himself up off the sofa and took the cup full of pills to the bathroom and dumped them down the toilet and flushed. On his way out of the bathroom, he tossed the empty cup into the garbage and went to his room. He lay down tiredly and shut his eyes, knowing that while sleep wouldn't come, it was better than staring at the ceiling and wishing that he had someone to hold onto. Maybe he could have someone to hold onto. But he wasn't holding his breath. A few months, maybe a year under, and then he would be free to complete his demise. 

~~finis~~ 


End file.
